Le End

You had to know it was coming, right?

After 3 years of working on Blogger, I'm moving on. I kind of knew this was coming for some time too. For the last few months, I have not wanted to go onto blogger or log in or update. I did it because in the end the need to write won out but that was all that won. There are more reasons behind why I'm switching over on the new site. Basically it's partially about how I need to streamline my priorities and make them neat and tidy. The other half is because I'm done with college which is what this blog more or less symbolized for a long time. It's time to move onto a more professional side of myself, which has been creeping on here for many entries now but can't fully stand out among the clutter of younger Heather.

Where I have been spending my time has been my other blog at Tumblr. Tumblr is just a simpler place for me to focus on and I've been meaning to create another blog with it for awhile based off of menswear. So I decided I'll do that. I'll keep my first photo based blog, strike up the new one on men, and keep a separate one a lot like this one with all the writing and wordiness there too.

I'm gonna miss you guys, but luckily I enabled the new blog to have everyone follow me, regardless of having a Tumblr account or not.

Here it is....

Champagne Bubble About Town

I hope to see you all there and if not, then email me to keep in touch!! (I'm especially pointing to Jennifer, Cara-Mia, Tracy, and Andrew on this one. I will be sure to email you guys back and love all of you!)

Love to you all,
Heather

Dude Dealbreakers

"Cock your hat - angles are attitudes."
-Frank Sinatra

Can we get a modern day Rat Pack resurrected again?

My life is starting to reach that point where it's the perfect time for a story that has been told time and time again to enter in. Busy worker bee young girl works, works, works, makes her entire life all about PowerPoints and personal agenda planners with coffee dates and trips to buy more creased pants and blazers her biggest priorities. She's got some great girlfriends, but alas! Where are the men? She is cynical about love and puts her career first, everything else in the second, third, and fourth place.

Then one day, that one man comes along in the most unusual of circumstances. He is not who is looking for and yet, he is what she is looking for. Then to throw a twist into the mix, some other guy she knows from the past comes back and declares she is in love with her. He's totes perfect and drives a Bentley and works with finance or something like that. And she is torn. Will it be the imperfect guy who is probably penniless she picks or the rich douche cad? Poor guy might play a guitar and make her laugh, but he's probably really into talking about feelings. Rich guy might cheat on her but hey, he buys her diamonds and isn't threatened by her career. What does she do? Who does she pick? Ben Stiller or Ethan Hawke? Leo DiCaprio or Billy Zane? Mr. Big or Aiden?

Don't worry you guys, I don't have this actually occurring in my life. Maybe in a few years it might, but not now. However you need to know something about me: I don't promote the image of the beta male triumphing over the alpha male. In these cases, I would definitely go with Big, Stiller, and Billy Zane (he was hot in Titanic, I don't care what Team Leo says). Why? Because I don't like guys who wail on and on that they have "feelings" and want to talk about them. I don't want to ever be in a place where I'm stuck attending couples therapy or shopping for carpeting or listening to a guy strum a guitar solo he wrote for me (unless he is Slash in which case it will be music sans the weepy lyrics). If I were in a serious relationship, I'd want the guy to be independent and afloat on his own boat. We'd check in with each other like once a week and catch-up then. Weekend relationship (well sometimes. I need to write mostly on the weekends.) is just my cup of tea. Is it distant? Yes. Is it ideal? To me, yes.

Frankly speaking, no matter what kind of relationship I ever get into, I don't want to lose or forget myself. I don't want to wake up one morning and realize I pushed all of my girlfriends aside in favor of him or for his friends. I don't want my world to revolve around a guy and definitely don't want to be dependent for anything. I really wish I didn't even have to write any of this down, but unfortunately it creeps into my life. Watching friends get married, get engaged, get into relationships, and society that scolds single people for not taking on the Noah's Ark mentality immediately. Sex and the City might have done well in attempting to make single seem sexy, but in reality nothing outside of that show changed. Disneyland still makes two people sit together on a ride and going to a wedding minus that plus one is still awkward.

This is why we need a Rat Pack. Why we need single men, silver foxes, back on the scene again. Give me your polished, tailored suits and glasses of Manhattans. Let me be charmed by your laughs and the wrinkles from the laugh lines and eyes that have seen the world. Share my love of skyscrapers, travel, the Neiman Marcus shoe department, and witty banter. Tell me stories all about your past lives and past wives. Be fluent in all types of music, from past to present, and remember that the Blackberry is not just a fruit anymore. Be the modern man!

It doesn't have to be forever. It doesn't have to be a marriage. But whatever you do, steer clear of my personal list of Dude Dealbreakers. I can't imagine you'd say any of these things to me as opposed to your younger counterparts but y'know. Just a primer.

Let's not and never say we did and luck indeed, I will be your lady tonight.

Let's go for a hike/run/camping/float trip!

Is there no one sentence that strikes my heart with more terror? I do not own clothes appropriate for any of these activities (my gym clothes consist of an old tunic blouse and leggings) and will not buy any either. Nature makes me nervous. I was that kid on the hike in grade school who when asked "are there any questions?" would immediately want to know when we'd be going back to civilization (civilization, it should be noted, was about 20 minutes away no matter what hike we were on). I don't like lathering on layers of lotion, the fact that the slightest swipe of leaves against my skin will result in a breakout, and all of the bugs. Oh. God. The. Bugs. Some of these things you can't even figure out what they are. Is it a spider or a centipede? Or both?

Float trips are even more baffling to me. We're going to sit in an inflatable boat all weekend with a couple boxes of Natty Light? That's it? Can't we do that at home where the WiFi abounds, I have a bed to sleep in, and I can still keep working? What? We can't? But why? You honestly expect me to take two days off of work to stay in an environment where I can't wash my hair properly?

Gung-ho granola guys are not my cup of iced coffee.

I don't like to read.

Strike that first comment above- this strikes the fear into my heart.

My views on this entire statement that I've heard more than once can be illustrated perfectly in this quote by John Waters, "If you go home with somebody, and they don't have books, don't fuck 'em!"

And also this quote as well:

"Being rich is not about how much money you have or how many homes you own; it's the freedom to buy any book you want without looking at the price and wondering if you can afford it."

Books rule my world and I could never be in a long term anything with someone who did not appreciate them.

i txt like dis. y u h8ing on my swag yo? lolz, at the gym txt it.

Ew. What is the matter with you? Did you not finish remedial English?

Can I get a glass of iced tea? Oh what's that? Yeah, I don't like to drink. No I don't have a drinking problem or anything. I just don't like to drink. I think it's toxic for my body.

I have a ton of issues with modern day business dudes picking iced tea during a meeting when they have the option to order a scotch on the rocks. When drinking with company, it is considered insulting by some if you do not partake (and are clean of any past troubles). You never have to drink enough to get drunk either. One gin and tonic will not impair your walk back to the office after. Executive meetings that feature bottled water are another issue of mine- you cannot tell me that after a long, productive morning or evening you'd rather cozy up to a bitch glass of iced tea or water. WATER. Don Draper would kick you outta your job if you refused to have an Old Fashioned with him. Granted he's fictional but that was the way it used to be and historically, the liquid lunch of ad executives has always been my favorite part of American history to explore and learn more about. I'm all for bringing it back. In moderation- initially.

Want to blaze?

Because nothing says, "Oh so mature," than sitting in some guy's basement on a dirty mattress doing a hit off of his bong and drinking Franzia from the box while watching Caddyshack.

I'm sure that the Rat Pack had a buzz going every now and then, but not all of the time. Plus do not forget: they were grown ass men in Hollywood. They had jobs and showbiz lives and strong women and charisma. Young dudes are lucky if they have at least one of these attributes to work with.

File this one under, done after college (for the more ambitious high school, but college works too).

I don't have a job.

Goddamn I can feel the haters closing in on me for writing this one. A young dude in his 20's needs to learn how to stand up, stand tall, and stand independently on his own. I applaud the young ones of the world who do it all and with a suave attitude. Though it's really hard for me to think of a contemporary example- all I've got is Mark Ronson and he's hardly super young himself.

Go out there and look. Apply. Fight for a position. Don't beta your life away in the shadow of the alpha male you could become.

Getting married is definitely a priority of mine. I'd love to have kids someday. Maybe two. Maybe with names like Jordan and Anna. Anna is my grandma's name, so yeah I want to honor her memory and whatnot. And I want a house too. Bay windows, wraparound porch, maybe a dog. I know it's the first date- I'm not freaking you out or anything?

You can't see it, but I just dug my shoe back so deeply into the cement wall that some of the back lining scraped off. It does freak me out. Just like 30-something guys don't like it when 30-something women on dates talk about how all of their friends are getting married and how they just froze their eggs, this kind of stuff makes me very, very nervous. Let's just take it one step at a time, okay? One nice, slow, very far from parental anything, step at a time.

You're sweet.

This is a weird backhanded one I get sometimes. It's creepy more often than not. I'm sweet. Yay? Is this meant to make me feel good? Or do I feel like they don't know me at all? How do they really know if I am sweet, really, truly, sweet? What if I happen to be playing that guy with like 3 dates on the side? HOW DO YOU EVER TRULY KNOW PEOPLE.

The only time I'm okay with it is when it comes from a guy who has read something I've written or worked with me. It's hard to take seriously otherwise. Knowing my personality, if some random dude worked that dealbreaker with me, I would make every effort that night to prove to him that no, I'm not sweet. I'm the exact opposite of everything that he thinks. I'm not sure who I'm trying to prove to anyone at this point anything about me- I'm just a girl who doesn't like assumptions? I have a lot of pent up anger inside? Oh the questions about my psyche are just endless. I just march to the beat of my own drum and this drummer knows her sheet music well.

Fingers crossed the world gets more real men soon.
Something bigger might come out of this post, tbd. I'm testing it as a trial run and so far am fairly pleased with the results. I'll let you know if I work out the kinks on the bigger part.

Oh, and one final Dude Dealbreaker?

"That's what she said."

Burn it. Burn it now. The Den Mother is not amused.

Love to you all,
Heather

24/7 Wit

You guys I'm under pressure right now. Pressure. Pushing down on me (thank you, David Bowie and Freddie Mercury). The pressure isn't anything related to work, though I suppose it is inadvertently linked to that. It's writing- is that work? Not to me. I've never found it to be before. But all of a sudden I'm under some pressure. Hipster-induced pressure from a newfound audience.

I need to be witty 24/7 and so far, I'm failing the hipster community hardcore.

Whatever. Over it. So done. Beyond. It's like- so now? Can't even. If.

Back up now, Heather, what's the deal? Why all of a sudden do you feel the awareness of eyeballs on your every move? What did you do to create this buzz? Seriously, what did you do?

About three days ago, I wrote an article for my boss' Forbes blog on HelloGiggles, that enormously successful website created by actress Zooey Deschanel, producer Sophia Rossi, and blogger Molly McAleer. In the article I made the argument for how the site was changing the online landscape with early word of mouth spouting for the site before it even launched and how as a women-centered site that produced wonderful, original content from bloggers of all walks of life, it was going to be the gateway for change in blogging and flipping the quantity versus quality quest on its head. You know what I mean. Bloggers everywhere are beginning to be conditioned to believe their words only matter when they write every single day- even if they have nothing to contribute but photos of their outfits- and to apologize for being away for too long (myself included here). By blogging irrelevant information, this leaves behind a carbon footprint stamp online of consistency that doesn't matter and won't stand the test of time.

I poured so much of my heart into that piece because I do feel quite passionately Pro-Giggles and everything that they do. A tiny portion of my heart was driven to write it because of a certain event that occurred earlier that week on Monday. The week before, I found myself on Molly's Tumblr where I discovered that the Giggles were looking for interns to work for them. Now, I know what you're thinking. I have a job. I freelance. I blog on the side for two blogs. HOW WILL YOU HAVE THE TIME TO DO IT.

Easy, I just won't sleep much! Though I am hideously awful to deal with when low on sleep and zero caffeine in my body. I applied anyway because I wanted it. I wanted this bad and would not settle for no as an answer. In return, I received a response from a mystery person who never revealed their name that they would like to work with me and if I could meet with them on Monday at the Starbucks in Beverly Hills?

Oh wow, no, I could not.

a) Zero car.

b) Work. I could not and would not leave my job at that hour to meet up for coffee with Mystery Giggle. I'm all about honoring my prior commitments and my job is my biggest commitment. Even if Steve Jobs wanted to meet with me to discuss the creation of the iHeather, a new computer invented just for me, I would decline because that newsletter needed to be created and only I could do it.

c) Did I mention zero car? And jet packs haven't been marketed/invented for the general public yet.

I declined in the email and also sprouted some severely huge balls in asking them to meet me at the Starbucks closest to me (address included in the email). I couldn't have honestly expected them to listen to the random applicant asking them to change their plans to better accommodate my own needs, but I tried. Subsequently did not hear anything in response either.

Expected and all, but didn't change that I felt sad after. My periods of self-pity do not last for long though. There's only so long I can feel bad for myself before thinking "This is stupid. You need to grab life back again and keep on moving."

I was not done and I don't think anything would stop me from continuing on my quest to get on board with HelloGiggles. Now before I segue into discussing Forbes, here comes the bit on my lack of hipsterness. The gene to Tweet out to the world "This broccoli is shaped like a baby Jesus. Eat it? #sacrilegious?" is definitely missing in me. When I Tweet or write, I generally tend to do it from a humorous, self-deprecating slant, or write about work, quotes from movies, and yes, even on inspiring hope and building up confidence. But I'm missing dry wit in the equation. I'm missing the need to listen to Architecture in Helsinki or wear neon yellow skinny jeans or carry an organic handbag that smells like manure and fruit leather mixed together.

I don't have the hipster 24/7 wit gene.

GODDAMNIT DO YOU KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED. My coworkers just discussed the phrase "hipster" and buying fold-up bikes. I am not making that up- right as I'm thinking "hipster" the phrase fills the air around me. It was a rare moment of thought and life colliding and it needed that expletive with a quickness.

Here are some things I like right now:
-peanut butter M&M's
-the "take $25 off of your $50 purchase" gift card from Ann Taylor LOFT in my wallet
-the fact that Jack White will soon be single again
-my business cards
-this terrible horror movie called Creep I've been obsessively watching for a week now. Instant watch on Netflix and the chick from Run Lola Run is the lead. It's both scary and awesomely hilarious all at once.
-my badass roommates who bake cookies and let me eat them

It's not hipster I know. But to me it is all fulfilling and dude, I have a job. It's tougher to make the time for observational humor on old episodes of Chappelle's Show when you spend every morning at work and every evening frantically typing, typing, typing as much as possible before going to sleep. Time used to be something I had a nice supply of in stock. I've run dry. Not sure how to replenish either. I think I've made my point though- I just can't do humor in the vein of the TV show The Office. I'm more of an It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia girl. Nothing will make me laugh louder than something that cracks wise at the PC world and still keeps it intelligent.

Back to Forbes- with the permission of my boss and my endless theories on social media guiding the way, I wrote up a piece on HelloGiggles and dumped my heart into the process. After I was done, I made sure to Tweet it into the right hands and kept my expectations on the low side. Not even 5 minutes of leaving the office later, my phone began to buzz with text messages from my Twitter coming in. BOOM. They saw it and loved the piece. This made me quite happy. I was back on the radar...did they remember me from the countless applicants? Possibly.

Then it got crazy. More text messages began to ding on my phone. I was invited to write with them. YES. YES. YESSSSSSSSS. Dream coming true, right here!!

Butttttt remember my lack of hipster DNA? I needed to write a piece that could impress them and stay in my own voice. Meanwhile, the Giggles had begun to follow my Twitter and Tumblr- under surveillance I was. All the eyes and texts asking and watching me for something incredible to happen.

No pressure.

Under pressure, I was. (Yoda be my guide.)

My roommate and I ran the gamut on topics for me to write about in the living room while I watched First Wives Club. Brainstormed everything. Discussions on acting, working in professional environments. the Olsen twins films, the fashions of Lizzie McGuire. Everything came together for a moment, fell apart, came together, died in front of me.

In the end, she told me that "whatever you write will be great Heather because you'll believe in it."

It was the best kind of advice. It wasn't about impressing anyone. It was about writing for myself and in the effort to write for everyone else, I forgot to do it the way it should be: from the heart. If your heart believes in it, if you can stand your heart and mind behind something you've written and defend it to the death, then you've got something pretty special right there. You've got some life in what you've done and you won't let it get kicked down or laughed at or lose it for any reason.

So I wrote a little letter of appreciation to Emilia Clarke from the HBO show Game of Thrones. If you watch the show, she's the pretty blond girl who is also a kickass warrior queen. She also has a body shape that is almost just my own: a healthy pear shape, probably a size 8. I admire her for having a body on TV that is not the typical stick slender I'm used to seeing but rather fuller figured and beautiful. And she is also the same age as me which I love because women like Christina Hendricks and Kate Winslet, while both lovely, are so much older than me. It gets hard to relate to them, you know? I'd like a representative from my own age group please and Emilia gets it right.

I felt confident with the article once I finished it. A simple one pager. My roommate read it and liked it very much. I carefully emailed it along at almost 11pm on Wednesday night.

Since then I haven't heard anything in response just yet, but I'm good with that. The ability to get such an opportunity and just try, even if nothing comes out of it, even if it is just a first draft and maybe it isn't their cup of tea and doesn't go on the site, still means the world to me. I am proud of that article I did with Forbes and prouder still of the piece on Emilia Clarke and will be proudest of all future pieces I write.

If you want something very much, then work to try to get it as much as you possibly can. And sometimes, you'll get someone who notices and appreciates the work that you do. That recognition even from just one person is better than millions to me.

Huh. Now that I've written this all out, I don't feel under pressure anymore.

Thank you, David Bowie and Freddie Mercury. You rock gods must be smiling down on me (well Mercury is anyway. Bowie's in space....Bowie's in spaaa-ce!).

Update: Oh my goodness word travels fast online...well guess who's going to be a contributing Giggle?? This girl right here!!!!!

Love to you all,
Heather

Blogging Like A Boss...

Not really though. For you see blogosphere, I've done it again. I've fallen behind on reading through the blogs of everyone I follow (you beautiful people, you) and once again, I'm at that terrible 1 month mark of missing out on random tidbits of information and great stories. By now, I think it's more than one month though. Oops...

I started typing up a whole spiel on why I get backed up on posts but I don't think I need to recount it here. It's simple. I work a lot. Also the letters "q," "a," and "z" are broken on my keypad from a wine spill from over a year ago. You wouldn't think these letters would be so important to use but "a" is in pretty much every word ever. Stopping to hit the "a" button on my on-screen keyboard is a nuisance that I've been putting up with for over a year now. Somehow I've been making it work, but I suspect that this weekend when I get paid is when it is time to finally address this problem and take my computer into the repair shop. Which I've been avoiding because they might keep it for DAYS and leave me high and dry without my writing resource.

Ugh, I sound like such a nerd here. Time to be a grown-up now and take care of important adult matters.

In the meantime, here's a fun question and answer session with me. I promise it isn't one of those terrible ones you find online where they ask you like 12 times if you have gone skinny dipping before and if you like the last person who texted you. BARF. This is mostly just a favorites list. Nothing too revealing...or is it?

Name: Heather

Where you’re from: STL, or Saint Louis if you didn't get what those initials meant. When I tell people where I'm from, the response is mixed. Most people can totally hear my Midwestern accent (it's something to do with how the vowels are lower than the consonants) and get it. A bunch of people have no idea where that is and mistake it for being in the Iowa region. Still some people say I look like I'm from New York (it must be all the black I wear that does it) and even more people don't think I'm even from America period.

Welp, I was raised in STL, land of Anheuser Busch, toasted ravioli, and where estate homes are regularly built in areas that contain Section 8 housing across the street.

Sexuality: Straight. With some celebrity girlcrushes (cough, cough, Eva Green, cough, cough).

Sex: Female.

Age: 20-something. I think I mentioned my age somewhere here before.

Biggest Passion: Writing. Writing is the torch that guides my soul to the places where it needs to be and where it shouldn't be. Writing is my best friend and biggest nemesis. Writing is the one area in life where I feel both highly talented and highly terrible all at once. It makes me feel completely at home and happy and just on the cloud 9 of producing incredible content. This is most evident when I'm writing dialogue between people. Then it can turn on me to produce an article so heart-wrenchingly awful I feel like I have no voice period or at least that voice is getting stupid on me and I don't want to look at it ever again. This is most evident when I write about something romantic.

Still my biggest passion though, no matter how many times it gets rejected or published. I do it for myself and that's reason enough.

Biggest turn on: I have many and the vast majority of them involve clothing. A crisp ironed men's shirt with pressed trousers and shined shoes will be the death of me. Menswear in general is my Achilles Heel...when worn on the right kind of guy. I'm also big on corsets, elbow-length gloves, stockings, and heels (for me, not him). Like a dominatrix without the whip and gag ball.

Single/Taken: Single, but seeing the world at large. Also, definitely not on board with getting married or having children anytime ever.

I will be that token awesome single girl at all of my friends' weddings, giving a meaningful toast, shouting out "awwww yeah this is my jam!" to the opening chords of KC and the Sunshine Band's "Get Down Tonight," having a drinking contest somewhere at the bar with the single bridesmaids who have all become my new BFFs, doing inappropriate dances with the groomsmen on the dance floor that will undoubtedly be the focus of that poor wedding video, having another drinking contest at the bar (this time with myself), several phone numbers from guys I will not remember in the morning, and going home in a taxi with one of my shoes missing.

Rad.

Biggest dream: I have a bunch and they range from semi-realistic to not even in a million years is that shiz going down. I'd like to have at least one book published by the time I'm 25. I'd like to travel through Europe and eventually settle down in London to work at an ad agency, surrounded by gorgeously accented British guys. Though I will also settle for working with Scottish, Aussie, or Kiwi guys as well. I'd like to time travel back to the 1920s and be a teenager then during the Prohibition Era. I want to create a series for HBO about a modern day royal family. I want to write a book based off of an idea I'm working with that would definitely get me in a lot of trouble to write about. I want to be in a commercial with the Pillsbury Doughboy. I want to create a non-profit organization for children. I want to pay off my entire Sallie Mae debt by the time I'm 30. I want to create a stock portfolio for myself and invest regularly. I'd like to be front row at an Arcade Fire concert and at a live taping for Katt Williams and his stand-up. I want to DJ with Paul van Dyk at Ibiza and also want to be the face for Lancome.

From this list, I know what's attainable and what isn't. And honestly I think the time travel '20s one has some real potential to occur.

Favorite colour: Ivory. I'm so white my favorite color is an off-white version of white.

Favorite drink: Sex on the Beach. It's really cliche and girltastic but they put cherries in it and it's pink so...

Favorite type of music: Film scores, '80s dance, and British pop stars.

Favorite band: Arcade Fire.

Favorite singer: Liv Kristine. She's the lead singer from Leaves Eyes and has the voice of an angel. The first time I heard her, she nearly put me in a trance. Liv's voice is glorious- I cannot stress it enough.

Favorite tv show: Sex and the City. This show is pure comfort food to me.

Favorite actor: I'm a big fan of the raw rage and insanity that Klaus Kinski brings to the screen. I've been into Kinski since high school and it isn't easy to compare him to other people. I will also see pretty much anything with Viggo Mortensen, Jon Hamm, and Robert Downey Jr. in it.

Favorite actress: I really, really love Marion Cotillard. I think she's just smashing.

Favorite movie: Edward Scissorhands.

Favorite books: The Great Gatsby and Franny and Zooey are the two books I have a hard time envisioning not having read in my lifetime.

Something random: I am extremely talented at gift wrapping. I take it quite seriously when picking out wrapping for presents.

Love to you all,
Heather

5 Reasons Why I Want To Be Buried In A Blazer

Quick. You're on a deserted island with only one article of clothing. What it is?
The one go-to staple of my wardrobe is...
My personal favorite professional article of clothing?

Blazer, blazer, BLAZER.

There are not enough words in the world for me to share my love for the blazer with. When I look at clothes, particularly secondhand clothing, I see their histories within the threads. Behind the seams. Embedded in the buttons and stitching. Someone loved that article of clothing once. Loved it till it was worn thin or washed so many times it shrunk and couldn't button anymore. But they still kept wearing it, unable to fully part just yet. So much occurred with that blouse, those jeans, that jacket! We all know that there comes a time to fold it up neatly and offer it up to Goodwill...but on the way out the door with a pile of clothes to give away, we quickly stuff that single piece under our beds instead of giving it away.

After all, parting is such sweet sorrow.
Those jeans made our ass look fabulous too. Can't give that up.

I went through my old clothes yesterday to decide which ones to give up and which ones to keep. A shift has been occurring in my wardrobe recently, as spurred on by a trip to the Ann Taylor LOFT on Friday. I take how I'm seen in the workplace seriously and some of my old Forever21 stand-bys have admittedly seen better days. The LOFT reminded me of just how much some of my wardrobe needed to be updated into the professional 20-something look. For example: the silver threaded and gray pencil skirt I held in my hand at the LOFT was an investment. It would take my current silver skirt with the foil flowers and kick it to the curb. The new skirt fit better and went from day to night perfectly. It was an update on a skirt I liked and would be much more impressive to wear with clients (and I've been meaning to phase that foil flower skirt out for awhile now but do you know how hard it is to find a decent pencil GRAY skirt in the 18-22 inch length range without spending a fortune or finding poorly sewn on buttons? It's like going on the quest for the One Ring.)

My sense of style is forever evolving, as it should with everyone. What we wore when we were 13 we probably wouldn't have worn at 16. Or how we dressed at 18 is probably a far cry from being in your 20's. Some people are blessed with innately keen great style from the get-go and may not experience this problem. Others, like me, spend a lot of time trying out different styles to get to the one that suits them the best. But no matter who you are, what race or clothing size or height, even with buckets of confidence or oodles of cash, the one question you always wonder aloud at home and in the store dressing room remains the same:

"How do I look?"

The one article of clothing that I've never had to wonder that question aloud with?

The blazer.

Blazers do crazy things to and for me. When wearing one, I feel strong and in charge. I know exactly how to handle and complete the project in front of me. I can lead a meeting in front of a crowd or give a presentation and know everyone is paying attention, front row and center. I can step up to a guy and not even have to say a word to get his attention- the rolled up sleeves have done that for me. When I see a guy wearing a blazer, my levels of respect for him go up dramatically. He could be the king of the douches, but I will remember him fondly for having a sharp set of threads. Kings of douches are often easily overshadowed by their beautiful blazers.

Or in mathematical terms: B.B. > K.O.D.

My mainstay blazer is a black silk one that I've had for almost a decade. I bought it in high school on sale at Dillards and have been wearing it ever since. The label is I.N. San Francisco- a nice foreshadowing to my future love for the city. I can't even read the size tag anymore, that's how worn thin it is. I love this blazer to death and try to incorporate it into every outfit I wear. Since its purchase, I've added a couple other blazers to my closet, but none of them have had the history that this one has.

We've been to the moon and back, this blazer and I, and not one item in my wardrobe knows me better (though my red trench coat comes in at a very close second place). Till death do we part, and here's 5 reasons why.

1) Looks Perfect with ALL Articles of Clothing

Jeans, shorts, skirts, tights, slips, dress trousers, leggings.

There is not one bottom it won't complement to take the look upscale or casual. Button the buttons if so desired- leaving them open looks fine just as well.

2) With Blazers, There Is No "The New Black"

I like them in black for classic purposes. Also in my millions of attempts to resurrect one of my favorite looks of all time- the le smoking tuxedo suit from Yves Saint Laurent that appeals highly to my minimalist sensibilities.

I also like ivory, teal, navy, dusty rose, and sequined over-the-top blazers. Black is great for commanding attention, but sometimes you just want a simple touch. A teal-colored blazer with a fun floral printed skirt, flats, and hair done up in maiden braids is ideal for a casual afternoon on the weekends with friends. Colored blazers can dress up a look as much as down and with black blazers, the same rule applies.

3) Like a Marionette With Strings

When I put on a blazer, I feel like a puppet with strings that have just been pulled on. The fit makes me sit a little straighter, makes me hold my head a little higher, draws attention to my neck and shoulders. It's hard to find a lot of jackets that can do this. With the exception of trenches, I don't know of any other outerwear that does this!

Also this is going to sound weird but I imagine that the blazer would make an open casket wake situation for me appear quite tidy and pulled-together.

I spent a lot of this long weekend watching repeats of Six Feet Under on HBO. Ain't no shame in thinkin' ahead.

4. You Can Really Go All Out With Accessories

This is really important, this reason right here. So many accessories are BFFs to the blazer. We're talking headbands, scarves, necklaces, pins, sunglasses, etc. One accessory if by minimalist, two if by statement. Not a lot of jackets allow for you to pair accessories by all types with them which is what makes the blazer infinitely incredible.

And finally, one of the best reasons possible, again no matter who you are...

5. There Will Never Be An Article of Clothing A Guy Wears More That You Will Immediately Want To Snatch From Him And Wear Forever

They do not call it the "boyfriend blazer" for nothing!

Love to you all,
Heather